


heart to heart

by myn_x



Series: ♡✧:｡Kinktober 2017｡:✧♡ [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Breast Fucking, Chest Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Massage, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-09 22:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12285771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myn_x/pseuds/myn_x
Summary: It had been at Kenma's suggestion that Bokuto get his nipples pierced."I think you'd look really good with them," he'd said, refusing to meet Bokuto's eyes, the roses high on his cheeks. It was the closest he’d ever come to acknowledging his fixation.





	heart to heart

**Author's Note:**

> praise the tiddy. also praise [lena](http://aoneshouyou.tumblr.com) for reading this over for me :3
> 
> hq fandom needs more titfucking. 
> 
> happy belated birthday to both of them, i guess?
> 
> i had not the earthliest idea how to title this ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Though Kenma has never given voice to it, he’s not exactly bashful about his thing for Bokuto's chest -- funny considering he isn't really outwardly passionate about many things outside of the games he develops, his secret knack for baking, and Bokuto himself, of course. Kenma only has a thing for Bokuto’s chest because it belongs to Bokuto.

Kenma doesn’t have to speak the words for them to be real, though.

Every night he falls asleep conformed to Bokuto’s back with a hand clutched over his heart. While Bokuto cooks or washes dishes he slumps his forehead against his spine, reaching around and up to cup him, seeking comfort in the solid feel of his muscles.

Even before, when Bokuto would catch Kenma's unblinking stare after he'd nearly spiked through the hardwood, he'd thought nothing of the focus of his gaze, which was always directed somewhere below his neck. Bokuto had chalked it up to a dislike of eye contact, but with Kenma holding him now he's never been so glad to be wrong.

Nothing really compares to the quiet intensity that falls about him when he fondles Bokuto’s chest, his hands whispering their praises as he skates his palms over him. Bokuto shivers at the feel of Kenma's featherlight touch, which tickles against the curly down covering the rise and swell of his pecs, his fingertips grazing just around the dark of his nipples and the metal rings stuck through them.

It had been at Kenma's suggestion that Bokuto get his nipples pierced.

"I think you'd look really good with them," he'd said, refusing to meet Bokuto's eyes, the roses high on his cheeks. It was the closest he’d ever come to acknowledging his fixation.

Bokuto had taken to the idea immediately -- the thought of how amazing it'd feel when Kenma tugged on the metal had him excitedly scheduling an appointment the following week -- and Kenma had even taken off work to be there with him when it happened. 

To distract himself, Bokuto had focused on Kenma's face. Where Bokuto refused to look, Kenma’s gaze had been unwavering so as to not miss a thing. Kenma’s firm grip when the needles slid home had helped Bokuto remain still, but Kenma had flinched both times as if he were the one getting pierced.

Once the metal bars were securely in place, Kenma had been uncharacteristically meticulous about the aftercare. Knowing every complication and what to do to avoid it, he'd personally taken charge of Bokuto's cleaning regimen up until he'd fully healed. He accepted full responsibility for his, err, guilty pleasure, he'd said.

"Just let me." He hadn't left any room for refusal, but either way Bokuto had no reason to object, having found Kenma’s fretting about him incredibly cute.

Bokuto had been able to tell that not being able to play with or put his mouth on his nipples had killed Kenma during those months, but Kenma had been serious enough about Bokuto's health that he'd restrained himself, content with taking the necessary care to speed up the healing process however he could. When it was finally, finally safe, Kenma had been the one to change the barbells out for rings.

It's the same pair of plain silver Kenma now teases at, palms flat against the rise of his chest so that he can trap his nipples between his outspread fingers, skirting them just so on every upward slide. The hint of stimulation makes Bokuto squirm beneath him; he could easily switch their positions and pin Kenma to the bed, but he's happy -- eager, even -- to endure Kenma's torturous handling in light of the hungry promise in his demeanor.

Bokuto is far too loose and limber anyway, body absent of the tension Kenma expertly draws out with his fingertips, knuckles, and the heels of his palms as he works his hands over him. By the time he finally gets to his chest -- Kenma’s always liked to save the best for last -- he feels like putty. 

From where Kenma perches on his abdomen, Bokuto has perfect view of the candlelight dancing in the clear, steady gold of his eyes, face framed by long locks that hang wavy from their earlier bath, damp ends nearly indistinguishable from his roots. That deadpan gaze that betrays nothing, but Bokuto reads everything in the pink flush stippling his chest and the slight tremble of his frame as he reaches for more of the heated coconut oil.

Kenma's bare thighs are hot and sticky where they're pressed against Bokuto's ribcage. He lets the palmful of oil drizzle onto Bokuto's chest and rubs it into his skin with unhurried strokes, thumbs digging in on each upward pass. Using enough pressure that pain is sweet, Kenma fans his hands across Bokuto's pecs and slides them up to knead into his shoulders, then grazes his nails over the spread of chest hair on the way back down, touch soft enough to raise gooseflesh on Bokuto's arms and the back of his neck.

As rarely as they indulge like this, Kenma lingers over Bokuto's chest every time. It's not as if he doesn't also take his time over the planes of his back or the curves of his legs, but the darkening of his eyes when Bokuto flips over for him is unmistakable.

Bokuto can't say who enjoys it more: Kenma, whose strokes deepen as he throws his whole body into the rhythm of the massage, hips shifting against him in subtle little rolls, or himself, to be the focus of Kenma's undivided attention. His eyes are closed, each drag forward and back led by feeling alone, and Bokuto shuts his own to savor the sensation of slick fingers and friction as Kenma languidly grinds his cock against his belly.

Tipping his head back against the pillow, Bokuto moves his hands from the sheets to bracket Kenma’s waist before slipping them under his waistband. He traces his thumbs over the jut of his hips, which jerk into his touch. Kenma gropes his chest in response, pinching the metal stuck through his nipples, drawing a hum from Bokuto's throat that crests into a open-mouthed groan.

"Mmm, Kenmaaa, you're so good to me," Bokuto says as he stretches his arms above his head. When Kenma relaxes his grip Bokuto flexes his pecs one at a time, peeking one eye open to catch his reaction.

Kenma licks his lips and doesn't take his eyes or hands from Bokuto's chest, fingers curling to dig into the muscles dancing beneath them. "You should let me fuck you," he murmurs.

Bokuto pushes up on one forearm to search Kenma's face for any hint of mischief, but the intense look in his eyes doesn’t waver as he latches onto his shoulders to keep from slipping backward. 

They just look at each other until Bokuto finally responds, his voice loud to his own ears. "Wait, what? You really wanna? My mouth, or...?" He stops before he can continue and say something that will likely embarrass them both. Bokuto isn't exactly opposed to bottoming, but Kenma is usually never this...forward.

"You misunderstand me." Kenma brushes his knuckles along Bokuto's jawline before settling his palms flat against his chest again, pushing down so that Bokuto's head flops back onto the pillow. "You should let me fuck you  _ here _ ." 

Kenma begins to knead him again for emphasis, and his hips needily strain forward against his chest. Bokuto's still lost, but it sounds and looks an awful lot like Kenma wants to titfuck him. As if to make himself perfectly clear, Kenma gathers him in his hands and squeezes, pushing inward to show off his cleavage. The cleft is deep, perfect even for fucking, but even as it dawns on him Bokuto isn’t entirely convinced this is physically possible. 

But they did have plenty of coconut oil, and with the right positioning and hand placement...

Kenma  _ is _ pretty flexible. A flash of desire burns in his gut when Bokuto remembers Kenma licking and sucking on his nipple rings the last time he rode him, shifting to thrust harder and take him deeper, mouth closed around metallic peak, his moans vibrating against his skin, fingers digging fiercely enough to leave marks.

The memory puts a strain in Bokuto's voice. "I see. Where'd you get the idea? Which is great, by the way, I never would have thought of it, but I'm sure we can make it feel really good for you."

As with the piercings, which had turned out to be just as fun as Bokuto had predicted, Bokuto is willing to go along with whatever Kenma has in mind. Even if he has to put himself on hold to help Kenma chase his pleasure.

“I saw a video the other night when I couldn't sleep,” Kenma admits. “And the whole time I was thinking that I’d like to try it with you sometime.”

"Aww, Kenma, why didn't you say something sooner? If you'd woken me up we coulda tested it out then and there."

"You need your sleep, and I didn't know how to ask."

"That's fair. C'mere." Bokuto reaches up to cup his hand around the back of Kenma's neck and pull him down, losing himself in how well their lips fit together. He'd stay melded with Kenma like this forever if he could, but he pulls back to murmur against his cheek. "If I didn't know you any better I'd say you only like me for my tits."

"You know me best," Kenma whispers back, the slightest shake in his voice.

The tremor sparks Bokuto to action and he cups Kenma’s ass to drag him forward none too gently, the momentum carrying Kenma nearly over Bokuto's face and into their headboard. His arms fly out to brace himself as Bokuto tongues him through his underwear, licking and sucking around the outline of his dick, making him jolt in his grasp. His own arousal flares as he laps at the salty stickiness that seeps through the fabric, encouraged by the sharp intake of breath above him.

"Koutarou, please--" Kenma writhes on top him and impatiently nudges his underwear down, and Bokuto lets him shift around to get them all the way off and then he’s settling back down on top of him, his weight warm and comfortable and perfect.

Bokuto cranes his neck to take him in his mouth but Kenma shimmies back with a knowing look. "I want to see if I can come from this alone," he says evenly while tracing spirals around Bokuto's nipple.

It'd be something else if Kenma did end up coming from fucking his chest, so Bokuto nods and tries to not look too sullen. But what if he can’t come from it? Kenma’s extremely sensitive and he does have a nice rack, thanks to the gym, and yet.  

As Kenma reaches for the oil, Bokuto skims his palms up and down Kenma's thighs to dispel some of his nervous energy. He doesn't want to let Kenma down, already imagining all the ways this could go wrong or simply not work. He needs to be as good for Kenma as Kenma is for him.

"I can hear you doubting yourself, Koutarou." Kenma kneels over him, scooting up to position himself over Bokuto's diaphragm with his knees on either side of his ribcage. When he settles down on top of him proper, he fits against him like he’s made to be there. “Stop it.” 

“I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You won’t. Relax, okay? I’ve got you.”

“Kay,” Bokuto croaks. He fists the sheets as Kenma applies more oil to his chest, fingers extra slippery against his skin, gliding smoothly over the patches of curls.

The molten gold of Kenma’s eyes sears into Bokuto as he swipes his thumbs over Bokuto’s nipples to coax him into a full body-shiver. Frissons of pleasure wash over Bokuto and pool in his gut at the feeling, and Kenma draws back one hand to pump over his cock to coat it with the excess oil while the other teases him to frustration, pulling away to avoid direct stimulation of hardened peak. 

Bokuto’s breathing quickens almost into a whine but Kenma stills both hands, one around the base and the other flat against his chest. He nods to Bokuto, who stares at him a moment longer before squeezing his biceps inward to deepen the hollow between his pecs. Kenma nudges his cock forward and hisses when he makes contact, biting his lower lip to silence himself as he rubs the head up and down his sternum. 

A whimper escapes unbidden, and Bokuto concentrates on keeping his chest plump while reaching behind to cup Kenma’s ass, using his fingertips to guide him forward and into a rhythm. 

It’s an odd sensation, but the hot slide of Kenma’s dick along his sternum, chafing against his chest hair, makes his own neglected cock twitch and drool, never mind what the incredible view does to the pleasure coiling in his gut. Kenma’s completely in control, close enough that Bokuto can see everything.

Kenma’s cheeks burn red, brow deeply furrowed in concentration, lip still caught between teeth. His eyelids are half lowered from where his gaze falls on Bokuto, and his chest heaves as he moans into each thrust. He ruts against him awkwardly at first while he searches for the most contact, the tightest pressure, but he catches his bearing quickly, using his hand to angle himself as he works his hips at a gentle, rolling pace.

Bokuto’s amazed at how his cock slips between the bulges of his muscles with ease, aided by the coconut oil and precome that drips from him in clear, tacky strings. 

“How’s it?” Bokuto doesn’t really have to ask. He’s enjoying the hell out of how affected Kenma is, so much so he feels like he could come from both the stimulation and the wrecked look on Kenma’s face, his mouth hung open around his filthy moaning. 

“S’good. S’really good, Kou,  _ fuck _ .” Kenma draws in an unsteady breath. He stills for a moment and Bokuto feels the crash of his heartbeat against his ribcage. It mirrors his own thundering pulse. 

“Really? I don’t believe you.” Bokuto’s lying, of course. Based on reaction alone, he knows it’s amazing even if Kenma won’t elaborate, but his words have the desired effect. 

Kenma loosens his fingers from around his cock but keeps grinding down on Bokuto, flattening his palm over his cleavage to create a pocket that he fucks into, while his free hand tweaks Bokuto’s nipple and gently but firmly tugs on the ring. Between jerky snaps of his hips, he says, “This is better-- than I-- fucking imagined,” punctuating his ragged words with a twist of his wrist.

Bokuto yelps and his muscles tense, which makes Kenma stutter into him unevenly. He presses forward to sink deeper, stirring his hips as he gasps Bokuto’s name, and rakes his nails from his shoulder over the taut swell of his chest. 

A pleasant but consuming heat courses through Bokuto’s veins, his cock throbbing with want for the tiniest shred of attention that would send him over the edge. His hips twitch upward with yearning for traction, but Bokuto steels himself, focusing instead on the movement of Kenma’s hips, the broken sounds he’s making as his cock slips wet and warm between his pecs. 

Kenma hangs his head and his hair spills to hide the dark flush of his cheeks. It makes Bokuto want to reach up and tuck it behind his ear so he can see each huffed breath, each little flustered reaction he gets out of him by squeezing a bit tighter. 

"Come on, Kenma, fuck me, that's it, kitten, faster,” Bokuto rambles when Kenma rocks against him desperately. He fits his fingers over Kenma’s and strokes them together over his dick to yield more friction, but Kenma tugs his hand free to pinch at and torment his other nipple, smoothing his palms over his chest, his fingertips absently massaging around his nipples in soothing little circles. 

Bokuto curses at the burst of stimulation and he follows the pull of tension in his gut, both hands caging Kenma’s dick against his cleavage. It pulses against his fingers as Kenma stutters out of rhythm and Bokuto thinks that it’s the hottest thing he’s ever experienced. 

Kenma writhes between his tits, slippery because of the oil, each slide tugging at the hair sprinkled across the expanse of his chest, his nerve-endings alight with a steady current of pleasure as Kenma fucks with his nipples. There’s no other way to describe the insistence with which he rubs the calloused pads of his thumbs back and forth over the peaks, pinching and rolling them between his fingertips.

He moves one hand away and Bokuto nearly cries out from the loss, but then he realizes it’s because Kenma’s reaching behind him to fucking wrap his fingers around him and tug, fist tight as he strokes deep and hard, and his hips never stop, and it’s so good that Bokuto doesn’t even realize he’s coming until he’s falling back down again, cock still twitching in Kenma’s grip.

Kenma keeps his eyes locked on Bokuto and brings his come-slick hand forward to smooth over his own cock, pushing into Bokuto’s chest with a liquid moan. He arches over Bokuto, thrusts erratic and fingers like claws that dig into his shoulders.

Bokuto opens his mouth to catch Kenma’s release but he feels most of it splatter warm and sticky on his cheek and forehead instead. Kenma stays bowed over him and panting heavily, and then he sits and falls back onto Bokuto’s stomach like a marionette’s strings that’ve been cut. 

He looks down at Bokuto’s sticky face and reaches to smear his come across his nose with his thumb. “Got some in your hair,” he says, voice tiny.

“Yeah, you came really hard,” Bokuto says with a chuckle. He rubs his hands up and down Kenma’s sides. He’s sweaty and feverish -- they both are, but that only means they could use a shower. Though, knowing Kenma, he’ll want to wait.

“Thank you.” Kenma offers a shy little smile, Bokuto’s favorite kind because they’re only for him.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> original prompt list: [☆](https://ohmykokuroo.tumblr.com/post/164156385511/kinktober-2017)
> 
> my picks (NOT in order): [♡](https://ohmykokuroo.tumblr.com/post/165843243141/hi-hello-kinktober-is-nearly-upon-us-so-its-time)
> 
> [tumblr](http://fucklev.tumblr.com) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/lovedeluxxxe)


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